


Christmas Spirit

by Socially_inept_bean



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, But Gavin doesn’t know that, Cats, Christmas Presents, Crying, Cuddles, Detroit Evolution, Drug Dealing, Elijah’s trying his best, Fluff, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gavin Needs a Hug, Gavin Reed Whump, Gavin’s Italian, Hospitals, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Just that general world you know, Kisses, M/M, Murder, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Office Christmas Parties, Panic Attacks, Pets, Posting this was an entire ordeal, Proposals, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Touch Starved Gavin Reed, Whump, and he gets it, don’t look at it too hard, lung infections, this got out of hand, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24295492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socially_inept_bean/pseuds/Socially_inept_bean
Summary: Christmas wasn’t a good season for Gavin. He didn’t necessarily hate it, but not a lot had happened that he liked to remember. But he did. For better or for worse.
Relationships: Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed, Jeffrey Fowler & Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 5
Kudos: 152





	Christmas Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Twenty-three was a rough Christmas for Gavin, aka, if you want to skip the self harm, suicidal thoughts, and panic attack, skip year twenty-three and go to twenty-seven.
> 
> I couldn’t decide whether or not to split this in half, but then went ‘fuck it’ so have fun with this. I guess this is technically a Reed900 one shot, but it’s over 10k and Nine only shows up after like 8k or something so it’ll sit by itself.

“Gavin! Where are you going?” The thirty-seven year old stopped, looking over his shoulder to see his boyfriend running up to him.

“Home? Why? I thought you were coming with me.”

“The department is holding its annual Christmas party.” Nines was standing beside him now.

“Yeah I know, that’s why I’m going home.”

“Why don’t we join them?” Gavin scoffed.

“No way. I’ve been to plenty of those things, I’ve had my fill.”

“Why? You weren’t there last year either. Is there something wrong with them?” The human huffed, rolled his eyes, and started walking away again.

“Yeah, there is. I’m not gonna go to a party just to sit in the break room pretending to be enjoying myself so Fowler doesn’t force me to dance with Person,” he shouted over his shoulder.

“What’s wrong with Officer Person?”

“Nothing.” He stepped into the lobby and failed to suppress a shiver as a cold wind bit through his sweater. He also failed to beat down the cough that made its way up his throat. 

“Here.” Nines was suddenly next to him again, draping his jacket over the human’s shoulders. Gavin glared, but slipped his arms through the sleeves. “Why not try one more time? I’ll stay with you,” the RK900 offered. 

“It’s fine, Nines. I’m gonna stay home again. I just don’t have many fond memories of the season, is all.” His boyfriend took the human’s hand in both of his, and tilted his head with a tiny pout. And he’d be damned if that wasn’t adorable, but he was a detective, goddamnit. He wasn’t gonna fold to his boyfriend’s fucking  _puppy eyes._

“Well why don’t we  _make_ some fond memories?” He suggested. “Come on, it’ll be fun!” Yeah, sure. He’s had plenty of ‘fun’ Christmases. He doubted this one would be any different.  
  


* * *

“Gavin! There you are! Do you want to help me make the cookies?” The three year old nodded eagerly in his mother’s arms, little shark plush clutched in his meaty baby fist.

“Ok, first you need to wash your hands, darling.” He was lifted up by his armpits to the sink. He giggled as a bubble flew out of the soap dispenser, and clumsily rubbed his hands together under the water. When he was done, his mother pushed the tap off, and wiped the water off his hands.

“Go to sleep, Gavin. Santa won’t come if you stay up to watch.”

“Good! He’s scawy!” The toddler yelled, wrapping the blanket around himself like a cape.

“Scary?” His mom said with a chuckle. This boy really was something. “Santa’s not scary, he brings you gifts because you’ve been a good boy.”

“I don’ nee giffs ‘cause Imma good boy!” She ruffled his hair, and balanced him on her hip as she brought him to bed.

“I know you don’t, but isn’t it nice sometimes?” Little Gavin pouted, looking away. His mother smiled as she sat him on the edge of the mattress. “Alright. Now go to sleep. You can have a cookie for breakfast if you’re asleep when I come to check on you.” The boy glared at the floor for a moment longer, before quickly wrapping his arms around his mother, and then shuffling under his blanket and snapping his eyes shut, hugging his shark close.  
  


* * *

“Mamma, why aw you cwying?” The woman quickly wiped away the tears pooling in her eyes with her sleeve. Gavin didn’t need this right now. She had to be strong for him. She raised a strong boy.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re going to spend Christmas with some different people this year. They’ll take good care of you.”  _Better care of you than I can._

“But I don’t wanna! I wanna stay with you!” She felt something warm trail down her cheek, and she pulled her son into a hug and pressed a kiss against his forehead.

“I know, baby, I know. But I promise it’ll be fine, okay? We’ll see each other again one day. Promise you’ll come find me when you’re older?” She wrapped the old, worn blanket around him, pushed his shark into his hands, and stood up. She turned and handed a drawstring bag full of his clothes to the man standing awkwardly next to them.

“Alda, listen-“

“Save it. Just take care of him.” He bit his lip, and took the bag, then leaned down to pick up the silently crying four year old.

“Mamma?” 

“Ti amo, piccolo mio.” The child stifled a sob. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. She watched as his face crumpled, and they held eye contact until he was placed into the car and the door clicked shut.

“Gavin, do you want to help decorate the tree?” The child shook his head sullenly, sulking in the corner. The man sighed. Another child, roughly the same age, glanced over curiously, before picking up a bright red ornament and hanging it on the tree.

“Gavin, can you pick up that piece of trash by your foot?” The boy looked down, and sighed, picking up the brightly colored wrapping paper and placing it in the trash bag next to him. He dropped his head back onto his crossed arms, which lay on the back of the couch.

“Lights out!” The man whispered into the room, flipping the switch down, and then clicking the door shut.

He attempted to silence the sobs from his room as he held his shark tight to his chest, after managing to tug his mattress to the floor so he could pretend he was back with his Mamma.

* * *

“Gavin?” The seven year old quickly shoved the envelope he was holding under the mattress. His half brother tilted his head curiously, but said nothing. He’d been getting letters from his mother sent to the school for him, but when their father found out he’d started throwing them away. Neither of them thought that was very nice.

“What,” he said tersely.

“Mommy said she was gonna let me help make the potatoes for dinner this year. Do you. . .” He shifted between his feet, rubbing his hands together nervously. “Do you wanna help?” Gavin stares at him for several seconds, and Elijah was just about to leave, when he stood up.

The older brother brightened instantly, taking the boy’s hand and tugging him into the kitchen. “C’mon!” He allowed himself to be tugged through the living room and onto the tiled floor, over to the basket of vegetables on the counter. 

“You need to wash your hands first,” the boy muttered. Elijah paused with his hand hovering over the counter.

“What?”

“You’ve gotta wash your hands before you start.”

“Gavin’s right, Eli.” His mother walked into the kitchen, waving a finger at her son fondly. The boy brought his hand back to his chest sheepishly, and darted over to the sink to wash his hands.

* * *

“Eli look!” The ten year old eagerly pulled his brother up to the window, pointing out into the white backyard.

“What is it?” The older brother chuckled.

“Look at our snowman!” Elijah pressed his hands against the cold glass, breath fogging it up, and smiled at the snowman still standing in the backyard. Except the carrot their father had given them as the nose had a bite taken out of it.

“That’s cool. Do you think a deer came and ate it?”

“Maybe it was one of Santa’s stupid reindeer.” The two brothers shared a glance, before bursting into giggles.

“Eli! Gavin! Come help me make dinner!”

“Coming!” A few seconds later, the two brothers burst into the kitchen, giggles still lighting their faces.

“Alright. You two wash your hands. Now that you’ve hit double digits, I’m going to teach you to use the knife.” Both boys nodded cheerily, and stood at the sink side by side to wash their hands.

She watched as they split off to start. Having done this many times before, they now had an unspoken system. She watched Gavin as he rounded the corner of the counter to grab the potato basket, when a loud crash startled both of them, making the young boys yelp in surprise.

“Sorry!” She quickly shuffle over to Elijah, who was standing with his hands close to his chest, eyes wide, staring at the glass shards around his feet.

“That’s okay, dear,” she soothed, slipping her house shoes on to begin cleaning up the mess. “Just don’t move, I don’t want you getting glass in your feet-“

“Eli, you okay?” They both turned to see the other boy swing around the corner.

“Careful, Gavin-“ the woman was cut off by a sharp squeak, whether from the boy or the wet floor she’d never know.

The ten year old slipped when his back foot hit a puddle of water from the dish, and his eyes widened and then quickly squeezed shut as he threw his hands out to catch himself. Unfortunately, glass wasn’t very forgiving, and he slid into the pile of shards, only slightly buffeted by his hands.

“Hey.” Gavin looked up at his brother’s voice. The boy was standing in the doorway with his head down, hands behind his back.

“Hey.”

“I um-. . . I brought you a candy cane.” The younger boy tilted his head as Elijahpulled the mentioned sweet from where his hands were held behind him. “I feel bad that you got hurt ‘cause I dropped the dish, so. . .” He trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“It’s not your fault. That dish is heavy, and usually it’s not wet,” Gavin smiled, standing up to hug his brother.

“But-“ 

“Shut up.”

“Daddy says we’re not supposed to say that.”

“He said I could tell it to you if you said it was your fault.”

“When’d he say that?”

“When he was cleaning up my face.” The boys giggled. They pulled away from the hug, and Elijah poked the band-aids covering his brother.

“Does that hurt?”

“No!” The boy scoffed defiantly, ignoring the wince as his hands were also poked. They giggled again. “Wanna come lick the icicles?”

“We’re not supposed to do that-“

“C’mon, it’ll be fine!” Gavin laughed, pulling his grinning brother along.

* * *

  
“Wanna throw icicles into old man Jake’s yard?” The fifteen year old sat on the edge of the couch, leaning into his brother’s space for an answer.

“We’re not supposed to do that.”

“So? It’ll be fun.”

“No, Gavin.” The younger brother frowned, and pushed himself off the couch.

“Fine, I’ll do it without you,” he muttered.

He didn’t do it.

“Eli, wanna come help me decorate?” The young man leaned on the door frame, arms crossed over each other at his chest.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” his brother responded dully, not bothering to look up from his book. Gavin frowned doubtingly.

“Ok, see you in a minute.” He hesitated, before turning back into the living room.

He never came out to help.

“Hey Eli, come help me make the potatoes!” Gavin shouted into the living room.

“I’m busy, Gavin,” was his reply. He frowned. Frowning again, more frowning. He’s frowned too many times this week. And strangely they all seemed to be because of Elijah.

“But we always make them for Christmas dinner!”

“I’m sure you can do it on your own this year.” The boy sagged, and then sighed, pushing the five year old potato bowl under the sink faucet to fill with water.

It wasn’t as fun without him.

* * *

“‘Ey newbie! Pretty face! Come ‘ere!” Gavin glared daggers, but did as he was told.

“We’ve got some rules ‘round ‘ere that we thought you should know,” one man said, smiling cruelly. Nineteen. Only two years older than him.

“The first of which being: I’m in charge. You do as you’re told,” a woman stated roughly, curly hair tied up in a ponytail, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Why should I?” He snapped, lifting his head up defiantly. The whole group exchanged glances he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Well wouldn’t you like to know,” a third man flicked open a pocket knife.

“That’s enough!” A voice echoed in the old warehouse, and he pushed himself off the ground, arms trembling from exhaustion. He could see a rough scrape across the back of his hand, skin peeled away, blood welling up to the surface of the skin.

The woman who had spoken before was stepping out of the crowd. She knelt beside him, and took his chin in her hand, making his head spin as it was jerked up.

Her eyes bore into him, and he shoved down an uncomfortable squirm.

“A few scars would do this pretty face well. Don’t you agree?” He swallowed roughly, and spat in her face.

She didn’t flinch. She stared right at him as her sleeved hand wiped away his pitiful attack. “Oh, he agrees,” she smiled. He couldn’t see what was happening as she shuffled, until a jagged glass shard was being held against his face.

“What do you think, boys? Leave him something to remember?” Chuckles and affirming grunts were her answer. She chuckled, hand still holding his chin roughly. The edge of the glass, a beer bottle that was thrown at him, traced a path from his right tear duct, across his nose, and down his cheek. He tried his best to stay still as he felt it slice open the first layers of skin, leaving behind a faint sting.

“Yes, that’ll do.” Was she done? That couldn’t be right. . .  _Don’t get your hopes up,_ he berated himself. He swallowed again, making her chuckle.

“Now just to make it last. Merry Christmas,” she continued with a cruel sneer, pressing the glass back into his face.

“Hey newbie.” He was kicked awake, a dull ache forming in his stomach where a boot had made its home. “Here.” He peels his eyes open, wincing at the bright reflection of snow bouncing into the room, his head pounding. His soon to be scar burned his face, and he could see dried blood trailing down his face along similarly dried tear tracks. A dirty hand towel, a bottle of murky water, and another bottle of snow was dropped in front of him.

“Clean up your face, then get moving,” another voice spat at him with a laugh. He carefully pushed himself up, assessing the damage. No broken bones, thankfully, but many a bruises, several cuts, and probably a concussion. Oh, and his face.

It probably wasn’t the best idea to actually clean his nose and cheek with what was just tossed in front of him, but he got the feeling if he didn’t he’d have bigger issues than an infection.

“Shut up! Can’t you be quiet for one damn second?” A man snarled, glaring daggers at him from across the room. Gavin glared right back, but was interrupted by a rough, heaving cough. The man, Isaac, rolled his eyes, and walked out. 

He was vaguely aware of his knees hitting the ground as he wrapped on arm around his abdomen and used the other to make a futile attempt at steadying himself. His entire body shook with the force of his heaving coughs.

When it was finally over, he opened his eyes. When had he closed them? His body trembled, and he stared down at the blood splattering the floor in front of him. He swallowed, only for another harsh cough to rough to force its way out of him. This one didn’t last nearly as long, but hurt just as much. 

He took a moment to steady himself, physically and mentally. Should he tell the others? No. They wouldn’t help. Even though it was their fucking fault, they’d laugh and tell him to suck it up.

So that’s what he did. 

He pushed himself up, ignoring the nausea making his head spin. He wiped a hand across his mouth, cleaning the smear of blood on the front of his jacket. He’d be fine. He’d show them.  
  


* * *

“Hey, kid!” The eighteen year old glanced up from where he was leaned to the side, arms crossed defensively over his chest and one foot against the wall. The only answer he gave was a glare to acknowledge he was paying attention.

“Here.” Something was flicked his way, which he caught reflexively. He opened his hand to a dirty cigarette. “Got a lighter?” He nodded mutely. “Use it. Ever smoked before?” Again, he nodded silently. The man rolled his eyes, and walked away, muttering something about ‘newbie’ and ‘pretty face’.

“Kid! Keep it down, some of us are tryin’ to sleep!” He rolled his eyes, another shiver running through him as he pulled his pocket knife closer. Just in case.

The old house creaked in the wind, biting through his jacket. A cough tried to make its way up his throat, but he shoved it away. 

He looked out the broken window he sat under and into the house across the street. A silhouette creeped past the darkened window, lit by the colorful lights hung inside. A box was held in the figure’s hands, and Gavin watched as they knelt down to place it under a tree, before quietly standing up, and leaving his view. 

* * *

“Hey Gav! Get in ‘ere, we’ve got somethin’!”

“What the hell do you want?” The nineteen year old pushed himself away from the wall into the main room. As he did, a cough worked it’s way up his throat, which he quickly beat into submission. The old cough always managed to come back when the weather got cold like this, especially around Christmas.

“We’ve got new shit.”

“What kinda new shit? Shit to sell?” Ivy nodded, holding a packet in her hand. It was something red, with a crystal look to it.

“It’s called red ice. Made from thirium, the shit the founder of CyberLife uses to make his tech run.” Gavin held his hand out, and the packet was dropped into it. The plastic was cold in his hand.

“How new is this?”

“Only been on the streets for a few weeks, it’s crazy,” she grinned. “I could make a fortune off this stuff.” He tossed the packet back to her. “And I know how much you hate CyberLife.” He grinned right back, to mask his fear. This was the same face that tore open his own, the same grin that looked him in the eye as he was permanently scarred.

“Ok Gav, we got a newbie. Want you to show him the ropes. Make sure he knows his place, or his face’ll end up like yours,” she smirked. “Except his isn’t nearly as pretty. I did you a favor with that glass, you know.” He suppressed a shudder, and subconsciously rubbed the scar on his nose. He didn’t know what their deal was with his face being pretty, he was pretty sure his face was the ugliest thing anyone had ever seen. But he’d managed to slide into a few clubs he wasn’t allowed to be in, so he couldn’t say anything. Not with Ivy on his dick all the time.

“Yes ma’am,” he answered with a mock salute, and she grinned, waving in a kid, probably his age. Not that anyone else would make that connection. He’d been told he looked both younger and older than nineteen. Usually his glare and rough appearance stopped anyone from assuming he was below twenty-five, even if his height had some people taking double takes.

But he knew the look on this kid’s face. The look of someone who just found an escape from a dumpster fire of a home and has no idea what kind of hell he just jumped into. 

“Hey kid, what’s your name?” He asked roughly after Ivy had left. Damn that cough. He hated the cold.

“Matthew. And I’m not a kid.”

“Alright kid,” he continued. “Aren’t many rules to remember here. Stay alive, don’t get caught, and do what you’re told.”

“Why should I?” Matthew questioned, defiance lighting up his green eyes. Gavin simply scoffed, pointing to his nose.

“‘Cause if you don’t you’ll end up hurting and with an annual lung infection like little ‘ole me. Trust me, kid. Do what you’re told, and as soon as you have the chance, get the hell outta here.” Matthew huffed, crossing his arms. “Listen. I get you wanna seem all tough, but it’s better to stay alive than to get beaten to a pulp ‘cause you didn’t know when to quit. You’re lucky I’m the only one here with an ounce of empathy in my soul.”

“I bet I’ll be fine,” the kid snarked. 

* * *

“Hey Gavin, you know how to get blood out of leather?”

“Should probably just burn it. Why?” Ivy grinned. He hated that goddamn grin.

“Matthew gave us some trouble.” She cracked her knuckles, then stretched her arms above her.

“What kinda trouble? He was only here for a year.”

“River dumping trouble. To bad he was already dead when he hit the water. Would’ve liked to see how the cold affected him as he died. The kid was gonna tell the cops when he found out we were sellin’ ice to one of his family members.” Gavin wrestled his outward expression down to a simple eyebrow raise. He wasn’t gonna deal with the consequences if she thought he was actually attached to the kid.

“You killed ‘im?”

“Yeah. Shame you couldn’t be there, I’ve been planning to have you join in on one of the dumps soon. Celebrate almost-legal drinking age, right?”  _When has ‘legal’ ever stopped us?_ She shrugged. “Oh well. You can help with the next one. You excited?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m sure it’ll be fun.” 

“Gavin, where are you going?” Ivy asked, a knowing gleam in her eyes. He pushed down the fear spiking in his chest, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“I’m done. I’m leaving.”

“Oh, I don’t think you are. Can’t have any of our secrets out, now can we?” She whistled, a low, long note, and less than a second later, the rest of the gang was surrounding him. What could he use to defend himself? All he had were the clothes on his back, a half empty pack of cigarettes, and a broken lighter. Throw the lighter at someone? That wouldn’t work. Guess teeth and nails weren’t a bad option, especially when they’re the only ones you have. . .

“Listen, Ivy. I’m not gonna tell anyone about you guys. How would I explain that I know exactly where the top red ice dealers in Detroit are, and all of their names? I’d be getting myself arrested. Just let me go,” he reasoned.

“I’m not taking that chance. I’m not the top red ice dealer in Detroit for nothing, Gavin.” She waved her hand at him, and turned to walk away. Immediately, the circle started closing in. 

_That’s not good,_ he thought, scanning for an opening to escape. He’d have to run fast. He knew his way around Detroit, so that wouldn’t slow him down. The only issue was he had no idea where he was gonna go. He didn’t exactly have a family to fall back to. Well, he did, but they wouldn’t want him. Who’d want their ugly step-son who ran off to sell drugs for four years? 

He didn’t have any money, Ivy took all that to keep the business running. She provided them with new clothes every so often, and got them food and clean water. They didn’t handle that themselves, she didn’t trust them to. This was probably exactly why. He really wasn’t helping the others out. Then again, they didn’t really need help. They were perfectly fine fueling addictions. Making people go broke. Hurting kids. Breaking families. He wasn’t. 

_There,_ he thought, crouching down, and darting past Elliot. That bitch who threw a beer bottle at him. Take that, Elliot-

Suddenly, he was on the ground. A throbbing ache quickly grew from the back of his head, and the gang closed back in.

“Kid, get up! Go home!” He peeled his eyes open to see a police officer trudging up to him through the snow. All he could do was glare. Damn it was fuckin’ cold. . .

“Kids these days,” he heard the officer muttering bitterly under his breath, snow crunching under his feet. “Why do I have to be out here two days after Christmas dealing with this shit?” Was it really the 27th? Twenty-five plus two was twenty-seven, right? He could’ve sworn it was the 23rd. . . “Kid? Dammit, you okay?” There was a light shining on him now, which he ducked away from as best he could in the snow pile. 

“Peachy,” he rasped bitterly. “Thanks for the concern, really, but if you could just pretend you didn’t see me here, that’d be great. You can pick up my body in the morning or something, and you won’t be held accountable. Aren’t any cameras here.”  _Which is exactly why I’m here,_ he thought bitterly, hoping to all that was holy Ivy would hear it and know he was still kickin’. At least for a little while.

“Can’t do that, kid. Gonna take you to the station, get you patched up, find out who did this to you, and then you can go home. Can you stand?” He assessed his injuries for the fifteenth time that night. Broken arm, busted lip, various bruises all over his body, probably a couple fractured ribs, concussion, black eye, broken index finger. . . uh, maybe? Maybe not  _well_ . . . Not that he was going to. He glanced down at his arm, bent at an unnatural angle, blood sluggishly seeping into the snow.

“No need, officer. I know who did this, and you’re not gonna catch ‘em. Besides, I don’t got a home.” He closed just eyes, shifting in the cold red snow-  _red ice_ \- he was lying in. “Just leave me here, we’ll both feel better about it. Mostly ‘cause I won’t feel it at all anymore.” There was a long silence, and he was starting to wonder if the officer had left and he hadn’t realized, when there was a sigh.

“Not gonna happen kid. Get in the car.” He was suddenly jerked up, and he gasped at the pain that shot through his ribs and arm. His eyes snapped open to steady himself to start walking, only to be dragged out of the alley as his vision swam. If he’d eaten anything before trying to leave, he was sure it would’ve been thrown up.

He was pushed into the passenger seat of a car parked at the curb, and the door slammed shut. He fumbled for the seat belt as the officer got into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. His head felt both heavy and light at the same time, and he wasn’t a doctor but he knew that wasn’t good. His head lolled to the side, thumping against the window. His eyesight was going fuzzy, and it was either the concussion or exhaustion. At this point, he didn’t really care. He glanced out at the Christmas lights hung through the street. Those were nice. . .

“Kid. Hey, kid. Ah, need your name.” He blinked his eyes open, having drifted off at some point, to a paper cup being held in front of him.

“Gavin,” he mumbled warily, carefully taking the warm cup in his hands. He could recognize the smell of coffee from across the city, and it was heavenly.

“Alright Gavin. Tell me what happened.” The car rumbled away once again.

“Left the gang I was in. They beat me to shit,” he summarized between sips, relishing in the warmth of the drink. He rarely got coffee. Ivy was the only one with that luxury. It was nice to finally have something in his stomach, though he knew it was just gonna come right back up sooner or later. That wasn’t something he was looking forward to. Ivy might’ve fed them but it wasn’t  _well_ . 

“What kind of gang? Beat up the freshman gang or drug gang?”

“Drug gang.”

“How long were you there?”

“Uhh,” he racked his fuzzy brain for a date. “Just passed four years, I think.” The officer nodded, turning into another street. “Uh, what’s your name?”

“Jeffrey. Detective Fowler, if you feel like it.”

“I thought only officers did patrols like this.”

“They do, most of the time. Since it’s around Christmas there are a bunch of officers on vacation with their families. Crime doesn’t stop for the season, as you know, so patrols need to continue,” he explained patiently.

“Huh.” 

“Why did you leave?”

“Just couldn’t keep doin’ it. Wanted to leave before I even joined, but I was-“  _don’t say afraid, he’ll think you’re weak- he already thinks you’re weak, do you seriously think you can defend yourself right now?_ “The leader. She didn’t like people leaving. I thought I could sneak out. Couldn’t deal with tearing people’s families apart just to get some money for food and water. Didn’t really. . . have a plan, after that.” Fowler hummed, eyes on the road.

Gavin stared into his cup for a moment, before taking a long drink. A drink he almost choked on seconds later.

“So how do you feel about joining the force?” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered under his breath, pressing himself farther into the corner he was huddled in. He watched with a critical eye as the officer - Fowler, right? - shuffled through the kitchen and filled a plastic cup with water.

Was it better to leave? No, he needed shelter, and food and water. This guy seemed willing to give that to him. But he’d be damned if he let his guard down even once. He wasn’t about to get stabbed in the middle of the night, or abruptly dragged into the police station. He’d managed to avoid getting arrested his entire life so far, and he wasn’t about to let that streak go.

He wanted to trust this man. He really did. He ached for some sort of stability in his life, but he wasn’t just gonna blindly trust the random cop who picked him up as he was bleeding out. 

And that wasn’t his only worry. Every sound outside could be Ivy’s gang coming to finish the job. Yeah, he didn’t want to get killed now when things started looking up, but the officer also had a family. He wasn’t gonna get some two year old stabbed in the heart ‘cause he couldn’t die fast enough.

He narrowed his eyes and tensed when Fowler walked past him to bring the water back to his room. The only acknowledgment he received was a sideways glance.

“Come on, kid. You gotta take care of yourself,” He murmured, stepping out of his room to see the kid he’d brought home a few days ago collapsed in the corner. He’d expected the kid to run as soon as he went to bed, honestly. He’d dealt with ones like this, and the leftovers were never pretty.

Gavin had let him take his statement after dressing his wounds and taking him to the hospital that night. He tensed at every touch, and looked ready to run at a moment’s notice. The bags under his eyes looked like they were painted on with how dark they were, and he was barely skin and bones under his torn and bloody jacket. But he was surprisingly strong, given that he could count the kid’s ribs. 

He wasn’t too surprised to find the kid passed out in the corner he’d claimed. The most he’d eaten of what Jeffrey had made for him was half a bowl of fried rice, a piece of bacon, and a glass of water. In the four days he’d been in his home. He didn’t try to convince him to rest, or eat more. He thought it’d be best to let him adjust at his own pace. 

He sighed, draping a blanket over the boy carefully. Gavin twitched slightly, a low whine escaping his lips. Sleep got rid of the carefully constructed walls.

He set a water bottle next to him for when he woke up. Hopefully the fact that it was unopened would assure him he hadn’t done anything to it.

After having his daughter and wife go out into the city for a ‘girls day’, he slouched onto the couch, scrolling through a news article about police brutality. He was taking vacation days, telling the captain he was taking care of family business, and he was fine.

A pained groan interrupted his reading. He glanced over at the kid in the corner. He was now stretched out, kicking his legs as is eyes scrunched up in phantom pain. 

“Please,” he whimpered softly, beginning to thrash about. That’s what snapped him out of whatever trance he’d been in to quickly kneel down and shake the kid awake.

He gasped, eyes flying open, and he scrambled back into the corner, looking around frantically.

“Calm down, kid. Whatever nightmare that was, you’re not there anymore. Listen to me, Gavin,” he continued on soothingly, watching the kid’s eyes dart around.

He swallowed, finally looking Fowler in the eye. He quickly looked away, pushing himself upright, attempting to make himself look threatening and curl into a ball at the same time.

“Yeah I remember who George  _fucking_ Washington was,” Gavin grumbled, rubbing his temples. He stared down at the textbook.

“History is important, especially the founding fathers.”

“No shit, Sherlock, how’d you figure that out?” By now the attitude was second nature. He’d already figured he wasn’t getting Fowler off his back  ~~ not that he wanted to ~~ . The man was determined to have him get his GED. It was required to get into police academy, after all. But dropping out at the beginning of his junior year wasn’t helping him. 

Fowler huffed, sitting down next to the young man on the couch, setting a glass of water on the table next to his textbook. He placed a hand on Gavin’s shoulder, making him flinch, then wince in pain.  _Damn this fucking headache. ._ . He took the water from the table, downing the glass like a shot, before flipping the page of the book.  _Damn this fucking book. . ._

“Who needs to know what could’ve prevented the battle of New Orleans?” He complained.

“We could switch to science for a bit,” Fowler suggested, sliding another book into the place of the first one.

“God yes,” Gavin muttered, flipping right to the page about stars and pouring over the page, chin in his hand. Fowler chuckled, taking the history book from the table and skimming through its contents.

* * *

“Hey Gavin!” Jeffrey shouted from across the bullpen. The twenty-one year old flinched, looking over as the detective walked over.

“What the hell do you want?” He questioned, rubbing his temple. God, this headache was killing him.

“You’re going to come to the department Christmas party,” he ordered. 

“Um, why?” 

“It’ll be fun, and if you don’t I’m telling your friend,”  _friend is a strong word. Friend is an attaching word_.  “uh, Tina, to throw you in the shooting range and use you for target practice.”

“God knows she needs it,” he smirked, watching the woman’s face grow offended.

“Excuse me, sir!” She shouted from the break room.

“Hey rookie!” A rough hand landed on his back, and he doubled over, coughing.

“Hey, Detective Anderson.” He straightened up uncomfortably, and the detective put an elbow on his shoulder instead.

“I heard Jeff got you a present.”

“A what now?” Anderson chuckled merrily, swiping a cookie off the table and talking around it.

“What, you don’t know what a present is?” Gavin rolled his eyes.

“Of course I know what a present is, I wasn’t  that deprived as a child, Anderson.”

“Well he’s at your desk. He sent me to find you. I don’t know what you did to get him to like you so quickly, but now that you’re part of his family, just know he’s never letting you out.” That sounded vaguely threatening.

“Should I be worried?” Anderson barked a laugh, stealing two more cookies and began to walk away.

“Nah, you’ll be fine, rookie. Gavin, right?” He nodded, taking a quick sip of coffee before sliding off his stool. He made his way over to his desk, where Fowler was leaned casually, holding something behind him.

“Hey,” Gavin greeted, slipping into his chair.

“Hey Gavin. I’ve got a present for you.”

“I heard. Why?”

“Because you’re part of the family now. Family gets presents.” He pulled a shark plushie from behind is back. Gavin eyed it, feeling a strange sense of familiarity and nostalgia.

“You got me a stuffed animal?” He questioned skeptically, taking the shark from Fowler’s hands.

“Yes. I know you like sharks, and we could all use some comforting every now and then.” Gavin carefully set the animal on the corner of his desk.

“Thanks. I, uh, didn’t get you anything.”  _You lived with the man for the first eight months off the streets, and you didn’t get him a present?_ He internally berated himself. Christmas wasn’t exactly the biggest thing on his mind right now. Or ever. You don’t really celebrate the holiday season when huddled in an abandoned room in an abandoned house on an abandoned street. The most celebrating he got was a coffee ‘cause he sold a good amount of ice and was deemed ‘a good role model for the rest of the gang’. Look where that got him.

“That’s fine. Don’t stress out so much,” Fowler advised, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He’d become exemplary at not flinching away from human contact. That had been a major point of concern when Fowler first found him. 

Then he was gone, slipping into the break room to talk with the captain.

He looked back at the shark, which was staring at him with its beady little eyes.

_Don’t get attached, don’t get attached, don’t get attached_. He repeated the mantra several times over in his aching head.  _ Don’t get attached, don’t get attached, don’t get attached to the fucking  shark \- you could name it Sharktreuse- _

“Goddamnit,” he muttered bitterly, swiping the shark off his desk and shoving it into his bag. 

He wanted go home. Back to his shitty apartment. Check all the locks seven times. Put his gun next to his bed. Get up at the slightest of sound to huddle in the corner and watch every possible entrance while trying to silence his heaving breaths. Finally fall asleep at four in the morning huddled in that same corner. Wake up at seven. Make coffee with his gun on the counter. Get to work at seven-forty-five. Work until six. Or until Fowler yelled at him for working over time. Drive back to his shitty apartment, rinse and repeat. The routine sounded better than bitterly nibbling at a cookie in the break room ‘cause Tina had an actual family to spend Christmas with and couldn’t complain about Captain Greller with him.

_Who needs family anyway,_ he though bitterly. He was pretty bitter these days. Better than admitting how he actually felt.  
  


* * *

“Get the fuck outta my head,” the twenty-three year old muttered through gritted teeth, leaning over the bathroom sink as memories crowded his head. Ivy telling him how much he owed her for sparing his life. Getting beaten bloody and dropped in a snow pile in an alley. Kicks and punches battering his already broken body. He couldn’t fight back. If he fought back he’d just get more hurt. Not like he didn’t deserve. He should’ve let them kill him that night. . .

“No, shut up,” he hissed, gripping the edge of the sink harshly. “You’re not allowed to die. You have to show them. You’re better than that, dumbass.” He could feel his chest tightening painfully, breath coming in ragged bursts. Spite wasn’t the healthiest thing to run on, but as long as it kept him going.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and his hand reached over to his razors, shakily gripping a blade in between his fingers. It hurt to breath, to stand. A sick cousin of ‘to think, to dream’.

He pressed the blade into his forearm, dragging it down with just enough pressure to make blood well up and begin to fall into the sink. 

He swallowed and closed his eye, before quickly snapping them back open. Goddamnit they wouldn’t  _shut up_ . He looked down, pressing the razor back into his skin two more times.

The metal fell out of his trembling grasp, clinking into the sink as he thumped his head against the counter. He took a shuddering breath, feeling a tear run down the side of his face. He bit his lip, looking back up.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered, staring at the red lines in his forearm. Blood dripped down his arm from the three uniform lines, standing out against the faded pink lines next to them.

“Six months. Gettin’. . . better. I guess.” Last time he’d only made it two months, so six was a major improvement. 

“Fowler doesn’t need to know,” he murmured. “No one needs to know. He’ll make me go to therapy, and I’m not a complete moron, I know I should probably go, but. . . I don’t need to explain myself to you.” He glared at the empty space above his shampoo bottle. “But I’m gonna. Not right now, ‘cause-“ he gestured to his arm. 

It was hard for him to focus a lot of the time. Explaining his thoughts out loud as though someone were there to understand. . . it just helped. He didn’t know why. Helped him focus thoughts.

“Maybe I should get a pet. How about a cat? Con: it would make noises at night, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep due to paranoia. Pro: it’s a fuckin’ cat who doesn’t want one. Con: it’ll be a bitch. Pro: aren’t animals proven to make people feel better or something? Con: cat hair everywhere. Pro: cats are mostly self-sufficient. Con: how the hell do you take care of a cat. Pro: Fowler had a cat, didn’t he? Ask him. Con: it would cost to take care of.”

He stared at the blood staining the sink.

“I could get a cat when I get promoted. Wait until then. I’ll be fine until then.” He nodded. He shuddered a breath, watching the blood drip into the sink for another moment, before pulling out his first aid kit with a sigh.

* * *

“Fuck, shit, damn,” the twenty-seven year old muttered, clutching the bullet hole at his side. A gust of icy wind pushed at him, making the open wound sting more than it already did.

“Fuckin’ red ice.” He lifted his other arm, taking a shot at the fleeing suspect before his vision blurred out. He vaguely registered a shout directed his way before he passed out, collapsing into the snow.

“Hey Gavin.”

“Hey, captain.”

“Brought you some food. Hospital food is terrible.” The officer huffed, pushing himself upright.

“Did we catch the bastard?”

“Yeah, you got a good shot in on him before you passed out.” He shakily pulled a burger out of the greasy paper bag.

“Fuckin’ finally. That bastard can die in a damn ditch for all the trouble he gave me.” He took a bite of burger, savoring the flavor. Hospital food really was terrible.

“Alright, I gotta get back to the station. Don’t do anything crazy, you’re still healing.”

“Crazy. Who me?” Fowler chuckled, then pushed the door open and left the hospital room. Gavin picked up the tv remote, flicking through the channels. Was it really Christmas already? 

He sighed, turning off the tv. At least they caught the bastard. . .

* * *

“Hey kid, when was the last time you ate?” The thirty-one year old glanced up at Fowler, before looking down at his study material.

“Uh, I dunno, a bagel a couple hours ago maybe.” Had he left the door unlocked? No he’d never do that. Did Fowler get the key to his apartment? Had he given it to him? He didn’t remember that. . . Oh, maybe it was ‘cause he was in the man’s living room. That would do it. . .

“Kid, you should eat something. I’m pretty sure that bagel was two days ago. I’m not sure how you’re still upright.” Gavin shrugged.

“I’m a professional at not eating for days at a time. . .” he muttered, scanning the papers again.

“Well I think you can take a break for a second to eat. You’re gonna make detective. Trust me,” the captain smiled, holding a plate of pizza and a glass of milk next to the man at the table.

“I wanna get it ‘cause I  _earned_ it, not ‘cause you pity me,” he sneered, taking the plate and taking a bite of the rapidly cooling pizza. He felt only somewhat bad for whatever schmoe had to deliver a pizza through the blizzard outside. 

Fowler shook his head, wrapping an arm around Gavin in a side hug. He flinched minutely, before leaning into the contact.

“You know how to take care of a cat, right?”

* * *

“Hey Gavin, you think that’s our guy?” Detective Collins pointed at a hooded figure strolling out of the building.

“Even if they’re not, they look suspicious enough to be doing  something illegal,” the thirty-two year old shrugged, pushing the car door open. Ben shrugged after, trudging through the snow with him.

It was red ice. Definitely red ice. He’d recognize the hazy eyes and sudden mood swings anywhere.

“Hey c’mon man! It’s Christmas, you could let a guy off the hook just this once, right?” Both men sighed, Gavin dragging the criminal to the car.

“Just don’t be so damn annoying and maybe I can restrain myself from breaking your arm,” he growled, shoving him into the back of the cruiser.

* * *

“Lieutenant’s still not back?” The thirty-three year old questioned as Fowler passed him.

“Didn’t you see the news? It’s been ages-“

“Cut the shit, what happened?” The captain sighed.

“There was a car crash. Truck slid on a sheet of ice. A couple months ago. A surgeon was high on that red stuff, and an android had to operate. Cole. . .” His eyes widened. Fuckin’ red ice. . . god, it was probably his fault, wasn’t it? It was probably from Ivy. He should’ve caught them already. . .

“He’s dead, isn’t he.” Fowler nodded grimly. How’d he manage to fuck up so bad he got Hank’s kid killed? 

“Anderson’s not going to be in for a while.”

He rubbed his temple. Why’d he always seem to have a damn headache? Just made worse by his fucking cough. . .

“The hell happened to Anderson?” He muttered to himself. Hank looked like a dumpster fire on the damn sun. He could smell the beer radiating off him. 

_ This is why you don’t get attached, _ his brain muttered lowly.

* * *

“Hey Anderson!” The thirty-five year old shouted as the grizzled lieutenant stepped into the break room, abandoning his bright red and green donut.

“Gavin, don’t,” Tina warned next to him. 

“Reed, why don’t you shut your fat mouth before I have to shut it myself,” Hank growled lowly, cradling a coffee in his hand.  _ Probably poured half a bottle of liquor in it, _ he thought bitterly. His headache reminded him not to shout, but he didn’t generally listen to his head.

“You couldn’t shut your own damn door, old man,” he sneered. He’d fallen so far he couldn’t even walk straight half the time. 

“Respect your elders, Reed. When I was you’re age-“ 

“When you were my age you were telling me Fowler got me a present while stuffing cookies in your mouth. Now you’ve replaced cookies with beer, and the only present I’m gonna get is you out of my face, now fuck off old man.” Tina’s eyes seemed to bug out of her head, but he just slid his coffee off the table and trudged back to his desk. He ignored the fact that he’d been the one to start the encounter. He just wanted Hank to get his shit together. . .

* * *

“Detective Reed, where are you?” The thirty-six year old sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he slipped into bed.

“At home? Why?”

“The department is holding its annual Christmas party. I thought you would wish to attend?”

“Why the fuck would you think that, tin can?” He snarked into the phone, lettingTango rest his fuzzy head on his free hand. He shivered. Damn it was cold.

“I thought humans liked the tradition of Christmas. And Captain Fowler was asking me where you were.” Gavin rolled his eyes.

“Tell Fowler he can fuck off.”

“I will tell him you do not wish to attend-“

“Yeah whatever, now don’t bother me.” He cut off his partner, tossing the phone haphazardly onto the bedside table and curling around his cat, trying to pull any warmth he could from the small creature.

* * *

“I have to admit, this is somewhat enjoyable,” the thirty-seven year old ceded, cradling his hot chocolate mug as he was hugged to his boyfriend’s chest. The android rested his chin on the human’s head, wrapping his arms around the man.

“My love, I think you might be touch starved,” Nines commented, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yeah, we’ve known that for a while tin can. You’re a little late to the party.”

“We were perfectly on time for the party-“

“It’s a figure of speech.” Nines chuckled, hugging the human closer.

“Maybe Christmas can begin to be a happier season for you.” Gavin sighed, leaning back into his lover’s embrace. He was so warm. How was he so warm? Was everyone else this warm? He couldn’t remember.

“Don’t speak too soon,” he warned, sipping his coffee-replacing hot chocolate. It was good. Maybe better than coffee, but Nines never needed to know that.

“Nines!” If anyone ever says he squeaked they’re lying. He did no such thing as his android picked him up and spun him around.

“What was that for?” He questioned with a breathless smile. Nines hugged him close, making his brain short circuit.

_Damn, when was the last time I got a hug? Besides from Nines at the party earlier. . . Was it really from Fowler? That was ages ago. . ._

_The boy glared at the floor for a moment longer, before quickly wrapping his arms around his mother, and then shuffling under his blanket and snapping his eyes shut, hugging his shark close._

_“But I don’t wanna! I wanna stay with you!” She felt something warm trail down her cheek, and she pulled her son into a hug and pressed a kiss against his forehead._

_“It’s not your fault. That dish is heavy, and usually it’s not wet,” Gavin smiled, standing up to hug his brother._

_Fowler shook his head, wrapping an arm around Gavin in a side hug. He flinched minutely, before leaning into the contact._

“Gavin? Are you okay?” He blinked out of his thoughts, looking up at his partner’s concerned frown.

“Yeah, I’m fine, baby.” Nines smiled. “Now why did you spin me?”

“You looked cute,” he explained simply. Gavin felt blood rushing to his face, and the RK900 promptly lifted him off his feet and swing him around, landing them on the bed. The android’s hands were planted firmly on the bed next to his head.

“If you’re gonna do that every time I do something cute, sorry to say I’m gonna puke, ‘cause I’m fuckin’ adorable,” he smirked.

“Yes, my love, you are,” Nines agreed, leaning down to press kisses all over his human’s face. Gavin smiled, melting under the light touches, breath shuddering, and he was suddenly picked up and swung through the air.

He stumbled when he was suddenly dropped on his feet, sliding down the wall. When his vision came back, he was hanging on the doorway of the bedroom.

“Me,” he said pointing at the kitchen trash can. Nines laughed, rolling his eyes as he deposited the human back into bed. The android quickly wrapped himself around his lover in the middle of the bed. 

Gavin pressed himself into his lover, bathing in warmth he hadn’t had in over a decade.

* * *

“Your cat’s a bitch,” the thirty-eight year old called from the living room.

“That’s why we have two, go find the other one,” he shouted back lazily, setting the tablet on the bedside table when the human stepped into the bedroom.

“But mine’s  also a bitch,” he whined, leaning on the door as Tango rubbed against his ankle, wrapping his tail around the lower half of his leg.

“I wonder why that is, Gavin.”

“Did you just call me a bitch?”

“Yes.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me. Now come to bed.” Gavin rolled his eyes, but slipped into bed next to Nines, who accordingly shifted to curl around him protectively. The human sighed contentedly, pressing his forehead against Nines’ chest. 

The new addition to the family, Penny, quickly jumped onto the android’s Christmas themed pants, kneading his thigh a moment, before curling up and purring gently.

“D’you know you purr?” Gavin asked, leaning on the counter as Nines made breakfast. The android blinked in confusion, turning to look at his boyfriend.

“What?” He rolled his eyes.

“As we were goin’ to bed, you started purring like a cat.”

“Oh. I. . . I wasn’t aware of that.” He actually didn’t quite think it was possible. Gavin chuckled, taking a sip sip from the mug on the counter. Hot chocolate, not coffee. Nines had probably figured out his new secret.

“Well I don’t think it was Penny.” Nines nodded, looking back at the counter. “I like it.”

“You. . . like that I purr?”

“Yeah, it’s cute. And it feels nice.” Nines tilted his head, then smiled, turning back to continue cooking.

“I suppose it’s fine, then. I wonder if it’s the same with cats, and I might purr when I’m afraid?”

“Yeah, well I don’t wanna find out. I’m good with sticking to content purring.”

“Yes, I believe I am as well.” Nines plated the breakfast, ham, eggs, and toast, and slid it in front of the human, before stepping behind him to wrap his arms around the man as he ate, who wiggled into the touch.

“Hello, dear.”

“Hey kitten.” Nines smiled, resting his cheek on Gavin’s head, beginning to purr.

“We got warrants for the Bresello family,” the android informed through his purr.

“God fucking finally,” he shot up, grabbing his phone and keys. When he didn’t hear his boyfriend following, he turned to see Nines staring forlornly at where Gavin had been only moments before, purr stuttering to a stop. The human rolled his eyes with a smile, tugging on the android’s hand.

“C’mon, kitten.” He leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lover’s cheek, making him shake off the pitiful frown - replacing it with a content smile - and follow Gavin through the snow to his car.

“Hey kid.” 

“Hey Anderson.” He glanced up at the man.

“Have any plans for Christmas?” 

“Was just gonna stay home with Nines. Why?”

“Wanna spend the day at my house with Connor and me?” Gavin frowned in confusion.

“Why?”

“What, can’t an old man want to spend time with his unofficial son on Christmas?” The lieutenant smirked, ruffled his hair, then walked back to his desk where Connor was waiting. 

“. . . Son?” Nines questioned. Gavin quickly shook himself out of his trance.

“I guess. . .” The android smiled.

“I know how much you looked up to him when you joined the force.” Gavin looked down, glaring at his desk.

“Fuck off. I hate you.

“You love me.”

* * *

“Hey hey hey, Nines, stay with me,” the thirty-nine year old whispered desperately, cradling his lover’s head in his hand as blue blood soaked into the snow around them.

“I’m okay, dear. I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” he assured, lifting a glowing blue hand up to trace a tear streak on Gavin’s face. 

_You shouldn’t have gotten attached, dumbass, now look what happened._

“You’re purring,” he noted shakily.

“So I am. I suppose that proves that theory.”

“It does, kitten.” The android smiled weakly.

“I like it when you call me that.”

“Yeah? I’ll call you kitten all you want, you just gotta hold out for the technicians, alright?”

“How. . . how far away are they?”

“They said they should be here in five minutes, but that was a couple minutes ago.”

“I can’t hear the sirens. My audio units are losing power. The energy is being directed to necessary functions.”

“Can you still hear me?” Nines swallowed, nodding slightly. “Okay, just focus on me. Stay awake as long as you can, okay kitten?” He leaned down to press a light kiss to his partner’s blue lips.

“Gavin, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m not the one who was bleeding out in the fucking snow!” He snapped, and quickly deflated, running a hand down his face. “I- sorry. I’m just. . .” 

“Worried. He’ll be okay, Gavin.”

“I know, Tina. I know.” They stayed silent for a while, Gavin holding Nines’ hand in his own.

“Why did you have such a strong reaction to that?” She asked from the doorway. He sighed.

“To what?”

“The whole bleeding out in the snow thing,” she clarified. He shivered, being brought back to the frozen red, melting into his clothes as he bled out.

“. . . I don’t wanna talk about it right now,” he muttered.

“Gavin?” He looked down at the android in front of him. Half-lidded, icy blue eyes stared back at him.

“Nines,” he sighed in relief, scooting his chair closer to the bed.

“You said you’d call me kitten.” The RK900 smirked slyly, and the human shook his head.

“That’s right, kitten. I did say that.” Nines smirk melted into a soft smile as he turned to look up at the ceiling, eyes drifting closed.

* * *

“I love you,” Nines stated, nuzzling into the human’s neck.

“Love you too, kitten,” he answered immediately. 

“How does it feel to be forty?”

“I feel fuckin’ old as shit now. Feels like I was thirty-six two days ago.” The android chuckled, before glancing at the clock on the tv. Midnight.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he murmured.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he smiled. Nines pressed a kiss to the human’s jawline, before unwrapping himself and standing up, amount his lover whine in protest.

“I got you a present.” He leaned down to pull a cardboard box from under the kitchen sink.

“I thought we didn’t do presents,” Gavin frowned, bringing up the grabby-hands to fill the cold void next to him.

“We don’t. But this time is special.”

“Why, ‘cause I’m old now?” Nines smiled, dropping back down to the couch with his lover, who quickly pressed into him joyfully.

“Sure. It was going to be next year for our five year anniversary, but I couldn’t wait.”

“Well good, ‘cause I got you a present too.”

“Oh? Well I think you should go first.”

“No, I think my present’s gonna be better than yours,” he smirked. The RK900 rolled his eyes, handing a thick leather book to his boyfriend. “What’s this?” He questioned, taking the gift.

“You have to open it, idiot.” Gavin rolled his eyes, flipping the cover of the book open.

“A. . . photo album?” He questioned, turning through the pages slowly.

“Yes. I got pictures of us from everyone. Do you have a favorite?” He looked down at a picture Gavin was running his hand over. A picture Connor had taken. They were sitting across from each other at their respective desks. Gavin was hunched over his desk, arms crossed in front of him on the surface, hitting his forehead against it with a smile. Nines’ chin was tilted up smugly. It was dated November 2nd, 2039.

“All of them,” he murmured with a small smile. He allowed himself to remain in his reverie for a few moments, before snapping the album shut. “Time for your present.” He sighed, pressing his nose into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. “I wanna bring you with me but I want it to be a surprise.”

“I could close my eyes.”

“No I don’t trust you enough for that.” He reluctantly unlatched himself, standing up and making his way into the bedroom.

“We’ve been dating for four years, darling.”

“Yep. Can you stand up for me?” He pulled a box out of the bedside drawer, and held it behind his back. He walked back into the living room to see Nines standing in front of the couch, hands behind his back as he waited patiently.

The human stepped in front of the android, box still behind his back. The RK900 smiled, leaning down to kiss his lover.

“Nines.”

“Gavin,” he replied with a small, if confused, smile.

“The force in my life that I can’t live without.” The human took a step back, and lowered himself onto one knee, pulling the small black box from behind his back. Nines eyes widened, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. 

“Kitten. Babe. My life has been infinitely better with you in it. I didn’t really plan to say anything else here I was just hoping my improv skills would save me.” Nines laughed, tears pooling in his eyes. “You told me to make fonder memories of the Christmas season, so that’s what I’m doing. Unless this goes horribly wrong. So, uh.” He flicked the box open. “Will you marry me?” The android nodded quickly, pulling Gavin up by his shirt to press their lips together.

“ _God yes_ ,” the RK900 gasped, pulling away from the kiss just as the human’s head started to get fuzzy. “I love you so much.” Gavin laughed, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto Nines’ finger. A simple silver band, with two little gems embedded in it. One red ruby, one blue sapphire

* * *

  
“Do you remember your mother, at all?” The forty-one year old glanced up at his lover, who was standing in the bedroom doorway.

“No, not really. She raised me ‘till I was four, then John, my dad, took me ‘cause she didn’t have a stable enough income to take care of me. Is there a reason this is being brought up?” Nines sat himself down on the couch next to the human. Gavin leaned into his side, resting his head on the android’s shoulder.

“Yes. I was looking at older houses in the city, and their owners for the Raesnor case?” He nodded, leaning further into his lover’s side as the android lifted up a tablet, showing a street in downtown Detroit.

“2036, Saba Street. Residence of Alda Reed.” He tapped on the house on the screen, bringing up the information. He closed his eyes. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, babe.”

“You sure this is the right place?”

“Yes, Gavin. I can check again, if you’re worried. This would be the-“

“No, it’s fine. I trust you.” The human twisted the bright blue ring on his finger nervously as they walked up to the house. An old, small, welcoming little thing on the corner of the street. A little Christmas tree was visible through the front window, and a string of icicle lights was hung over the door.

He shook his shoulders, watching snow drift in front of him. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to do this now-“

“Yes. I’m sure. Just. . .” He took a deep breath. He shouldn’t be this nervous. Why was he this nervous? “I’m okay.” 

“Take my hand.”

“I don’t need to-“

“Gavin.” He gave the human a firm look, making him sigh and take Nines’ hand, holding it between his own hands. He brought it up to his forehead, and tensed all the muscles in his arms, squeezing the hand as hard as he could, before reluctantly letting go.

“There. I’m fine.” Nines looked him over one more time, before ringing the doorbell. There was a shark sticker on it.

“Coming!” Was the muffled answer from inside. After a few seconds of shuffling, the door was pulled open. “Yes?” He immediately turned his head down to the ground. God she looked like him. . . 

“Alda Reed, correct?” Nines asked, letting him pull himself together.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m Nines, and this is my partner, sergeant Gavin Reed.” He put a special emphasis on his name. Or did he? He couldn’t tell. There was heavy silence.  _ God, what does she think of me? Is she disappointed in me? Why would she be disappointed in you, she barely even knows who you are but do you think that would stop her from hating you no it wouldn’t dumbass- _

“Gavin?” He glanced up. She had tears in her eyes. He swallowed.

“Hey mom,” he whispered. She gasped, and he was suddenly pulled into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. 

“I knew you’d come find me,” she whispered. After a few moments she pulled back, placing a hand on his cheek.

“Look how much you’ve grown,” she murmured. Alda quickly stepped back, gesturing them inside. “Come in, come in. We have much to catch up on. Nines, you too.” They shuffled inside as requested. It looked like nothing had changed. The same vase was sitting in the hall on the same wooden table. The same shark sticker was still on it. The same smell of burnt toast and pumpkin spice could be found hanging in the air.

“Sit down, right here.” She pulled out two chairs from under the table, and sat herself down across from them. 

When Gavin found out his real mother was still alive and living in Detroit, he knew he had to go see her. Wrinkles lined her face, and as soon as he saw her eyes he thought he was looking at himself with long hair. 

“Where to even begin?” She laughed, leaning back in her chair. “You said sergeant?”

“Yeah. DPD,” he smiled. She stared up at the ceiling, smiling warmly. He leaned over the table, and Nines sat with his hands clasped in his lap to his right.

“How long?”

“Joined the force when I was twenty. Became a detective when I was thirty-one. Promoted to sergeant a few months ago.”

“Twenty,” she sighed, looking back down to them. “When I was twenty I was pregnant with you. You’re married?” He glanced down at his ring, smile growing.

“Yeah. Just this year.”

“With who?” He bit his lip, looking down. Nines tilted his head at him. She was probably pro-android, or at least tolerable of them. Nines still hadn’t taken out his LED, probably never would. But. . .

_ Fuck it, if she doesn’t accept you now, it was better you lived without, right? _

He took a deep breath, then nodded, signaling to his husband, who smiled, lifting his left hand up from under the table. The silver engagement ring and dark red wedding ring caught the light, and he clasped their hands together.

“Thank goodness,” she laughed. He looked up, seeing her wipe non-existent sweat from her brow. “Oh, you look like a good man. Tidy, polite, but firm enough to keep my bastard of a son in line.” Gavin gaped.

“Excuse me, who are you calling a bastard-“

“Technically, she’s telling the truth. Although your personality  is ‘unpleasant or despicable’, a bastard child-“

“Yeah I know what a fuckin’ bastard child is, considering I fuckin’  am one.”

“Being something doesn’t necessarily mean you know what it is-“

“Hey, I’m your superior.”

“Maybe at work, but we both know how you melt when we cuddle.” 

“Only because I know you like protecting me-“ 

“Keep telling yourself that, darling.” 

“I hate you.” 

“You love me.”

A light laugh pulled the two out of their banter. “Oh that’s all the proof I need that you two were made for each other.”

“Ma’am, I was made as a resource for the military-“

“God you’re unbearable,” Gavin sighed, elbowing the android in the side to make him shut the hell up. All he got was a smirk in reply.

“Just call me Alda, or ‘mom’ if you’d prefer,” the woman said, also smirking. “Oh! Did you ever get my letters?”

“Your letters- oh those letters. Yeah, I still have them. Most of them, at least. Had to get Eli to send them to me, though.”

“You never sent any back, I didn’t know if you’d even read them. Eli is. . . ?”

“My half-brother. You remember Elijah, right?” She nodded her head.

“Of course, of course. Why did he have to send them to you?” Gavin looked down again.

“John, uh, didn’t like that you were sending me letters. I had to hide them, but Eli knew. I asked him if he still had them, and he sent them over. I’ve been,” he glanced at Nines, “ _encouraged_ to reconcile with him. Considering I was the one who ran away. . .”

“Ran away? Why would you run away? They weren’t hurting you, were they?”

“No, no they were fine. I just, uh. Got caught up with the wrong people. Dropped outta high school and lived on the streets for a few years, got found by a cop, then joined the academy after he helped me study for my GED.”That was extremely simplified, but he wasn’t exactly happy about his time with Ivy. “He um, he’s kinda my unofficial dad, I guess.” Alda shook her head with a sigh, before pushing out if her chair.

“We can talk more later. Or while baking. And you’d better tell me more about the academy. And whoever this new father figure is. Do you want to help me make cookies?” Gavin smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” Alda smiled, clapping her hands together as she lead them over to the kitchen.

“Coffee?”

“Got any hot chocolate?” She nodded, and ladled homemade hot chocolate from a pot on the stove into a dark blue shark mug and set it on the table for him, before turning to the sink.

“Remember you’ve got to-“

“Wash your hands first. I got it,” he smiled. She laughed, turning on the faucet. She had the same soap bottle he remembered. 

“Ti amo, piccolo mio.” Nines tilted his head, probably translating.

“. . . Love you, mamma.” The android at his side smiled, leaning into his shoulder. “Love you too, kitten.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he defended, continuing to smile warmly.

“You didn’t need to. I still love you.” They stood still, standing next to the counter of cookie ingredients.

“I love you too, darling.” Gavin smiled, leaning up to press their lips together. A warm bubble filled his chest, and he sighed into his husband’s embrace, who he could feel beginning to purr.

“There’s not even mistletoe there!” They broke apart to laugh at Alda, before pressing their foreheads back together gently.

“Fonder memories, huh?” Nines murmured.

“Fonder memories indeed,” he replied. They stared into each other’s eyes for a few more moments, before diving in for another kiss. This was by far one of the best Christmases he’d ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> A bastard child is when one person in a marriage goes off and does it with someone else.
> 
> Well here it is. I’ve been working on this for maybe a week or so now, and god it’s longer than anticipated. I honestly have no idea how I busted this out so fast. 
> 
> Detroit: New Era discord server and all that can you tell I’m tired yet? https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm


End file.
